Smiles
by odiedragon
Summary: A post coronation story from Alistair's POV as he watches his love leave Denerim with Zevran at her side. Inspired by the song Magic by Ben Folds.


_Magic – Ben Folds Five_

_From the back of your big brown eyes  
I knew you'd be gone as soon as you could  
And I hoped you would_

_We could see that you weren't yourself  
And the lines on your face did tell  
It's just as well_

_You'd never be yourself again_

He scrutinized the crowd as he waited at the far end of the main hall. _There she is, thank the Maker. I owe Oghren a flagon of something expensive and potent._ The Hero of Ferelden needs to be acknowledged and rewarded for her service by Ferelden's King. The actual flesh and blood people beneath these titles are hardly of consequence in the eyes of duty. There is also little else I can do for her, now, and I intend not to fail her in this.

If it were just us and not these titles and expectations we both carry on our shoulders, I could simply tell myself that she already had her boon. We both lived through the Blight, were still breathing and able to live in a world free of the Archdemon. _Damn my rotten bones, I should have just taken the killing blow myself and not wrought... whatever Morrigan is planning_. If she hadn't told me of the ritual, I would be dead. The thought of letting her take the final blow against the Archdemon was inconceivable. But now we must live with what our actions have wrought, and that included the separate paths laid out before us.

In the rare moments when I catch her gaze, she appears as a shadow of her former self. She still loves me even after what I did. Hatred would almost be easier to deal with. But it had to be done. Ferelden needs me to hold it together, as frightening as that thought is, and the Grey Wardens need her. People in our shoes cannot afford to let down the thousands of people that are counting on them just simply to spare their own feelings about the matter.

When I call her up to the dais, she is as stone-faced as Shale. Her eyes whet and sharpen her daggers when I call her "my friend". As I expected, she wishes her boon to be aid in rebuilding the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She wishes to wrap herself up in the Grey Wardens, the way that I once tried to do after Duncan conscripted me away from the Chantry. But where I was honored and glad to be free of my past back then, in the here and now she only sees what she has lost.

Does she honestly think this is_ easy_? That I don't hurt as much as she does? I like to tell myself that she's not so foolish.

We are not the same people we were when we started this. She will come to terms with this, given time. I did, at least logically, in those last weeks after we revived the Arl and before heading to Denerim for the Landsmeet. Oh Maker, perhaps if I was not such a coward this could have been easier. I hid behind my old lines of not wanting to be king, mostly because I, personally, still did not want to. But this has grown beyond me, beyond the impetuous little boy who locked himself in cages or screamed into quiet monastery halls for attention. It has always been made painfully clear to me that my destiny will never be my own to choose. At first it was in the name of keeping me off the throne, but then the world turned upside down after Ostagar and my thrice-damned blood became… convenient. It was the same snarling mabari nipping at my heels, just painted a different color.

_Saw you last night  
Dance by the light of the moon_  
_Stars in your eyes  
Free from the life that you knew_  
_  
You're the magic that holds the sky up from the ground  
You're the breath that blows these cool winds 'round  
Trading places with an angel now_

At the coronation feast that night, I could not find her. _I should get used to not seeing her, I suppose._ But this thought did nothing to stop me from looking at every face, hoping to catch a small glimpse of her in the crowd.

The actual feast was held outside the walls of the city under giant pavilions lit by lamplight and torches, to accommodate as many people as possible. There are so many nobles, and for each one there are at least two dozen family members and other retainers. To fit them inside even the royal palace's largest hall would have been difficult at best. Even this was just a sampling of the nobility of Ferelden; with the Blight so recently ended, many had chosen to remain on their lands instead of making a trip back to Denerim so soon after the Landsmeet.

It wasn't until near the end of the night that I saw her. She was standing, or perhaps sitting on something, at the edge of the field away from the main group of pavilions. Far enough away to be out of most people's notice but still close enough to watch the proceedings. Most people would not have recognized her at this distance, I think. However I was not the only one seeking her out. She was accompanied by someone with white-blonde hair that could only be Zevran. Instinctively, my anger flared within me. The assassin. The lecherous Antivan. No doubt he was trying to take advantage of her current state of vulnerability. It's what assassins do, after all.

But who am I to judge his intentions any longer? Or, for that matter, hers? I gave up that right when I let the Landsmeet name me their king. _Andraste's flaming sword, you would think that given their own intimate relationship with one another, my blood and my heart would work toward a common goal more often._

The Antivan had somehow convinced her to set aside her heartbreak for a moment, as he was leading her by the hand away from the tree line and out into the open. The music played by the court musicians had swelled again, but it had been getting progressively less intense as the evening had worn on. I suppose they were waiting for me to retire for the evening before stopping. But I did not want to deny her this, if she had finally broken out of her shell a bit.

They danced together, she with an awkward grace and he with fluid precise motions. Her fierce loyalty to Zevran had always rankled me, one of the few things about her that did. But now… as much as it killed me to think about it, perhaps this would be the one saving grace that could get her through this heartbreaking situation. Or perhaps I was looking too deeply into things. Zevran made it well known that he was a man of many pleasures, and he took them where and when he could find them. He may very well see this as the chance to brag for the rest of his life that he once bedded the Hero of Ferelden.

Unconsciously, they edged closer to the outskirts of the circle of pavilions. I could almost see her smiling at him. I knew that smile all too well. It was different from the self-satisfied smirk she gave after delivering a wickedly funny retort. Different from the grin of mirth that lit up her whole face when Oghren or Wynne teased me. And far different from the smile she'd forced herself to give when I had promised to provide her with resources to rebuild the Grey Wardens.

Whatever it may mean tomorrow or the next day, tonight it was a small glimmer of happiness on a face that deserves nothing but smiles. The treasure of a fleeting love is better than never having loved at all.

_Saw you last night_  
_Dance by the light of the moon  
Stars in your eyes  
Free from the life that you knew_

_Saw you last night  
Stars in the sky  
Smiled in my room_

The following evening, I stood on the balcony attached to the royal apartments. It was the first time all day that I was truly alone, no matter what my heart told me. The overlook afforded a beautiful view of Denerim, or it would in time once things were in a better state of repair. Directly below me was the main castle courtyard, which even at this hour had people bustling back and forth within it. Supply wagons pulled by oxen, knights headed out to the city for an evening of drinking and wenching, guards heading to their posts. Among the bustle, a loaded pack mule caught my eye. Even at this distance I recognized what hung from the side of the beast's packs, and the device on it. _My Templar shield_. _Andraste's golden knickers, I didn't even think we'd hung onto that old thing!_ I hadn't carried that shield since Arl Eamon had given us a shield bearing Redcliffe's crest after saving his son. Arl Eamon's gift was as much my shield now as the one that hung in the royal armory had been Duncan's, but the Templar shield had once been just as much mine. The difference being that it would not be missed were it to disappear out from under its old bearer's nose.

A brief moment later I spotted her. Zevran was at her side, as was her mabari. _They're leaving. Maker's Breath, they're leaving now, in the dark, barely a day after my being crowned king. _Wynne told me the next morning that the intent of their late night departure was to avoid causing a scene. But in that moment, it made no sense and seemed insane and reckless. Never mind the fact that she hadn't even tried to seek me out to say goodbye. Well who knows, maybe she did try but was overwhelmed by the shear sea of people who constantly surround me now.

There would have been a time in my life where I would have bolted out of my rooms, knocking aside anyone who dared stand in my way. Just to catch up with her and speak with her one last time. To look her in the eye and tell her I still loved her, no matter what duty told me was the right course of action.

It was then that she turned and looked up, as if to paint one last image of the royal palace on her mental canvas. _Is she upset? Or is she just relieved to be gone from here_? On some deep, guilt-ridden level, I was glad she was leaving so soon. Her being at court definitely didn't make things better, and some wiser and more rational part of me knows it will be easier to move on once we are apart from one another. We had both received enough arrow wounds while fighting the Blight to know that things would never heal unless the arrow was removed as quickly as possible. This was the same, somehow.

I saw it when she froze, every muscle in her body keeping her stock still. She was too far away for me to meet her gaze, but she must have spotted me looking down from my vantage point. Surprisingly, she did not turn away and run, but stood there still as a statue. I had seen her make so many tough choices in the time we've known one another that I could almost hear the thoughts rolling around in her head. _Oh, Maker's balls, what more do I have to lose at this point?_ I moved my hand to my lips, exaggerating the gesture to make sure it translated well over distance, and blew her a kiss. She spun away at first…but then, amazingly, she turned back around and returned the gesture.

She stood there until Zevran came and put his arm around her, which seemed to snap her back to reality. Turning, she headed toward the main castle gates and did not look back. I smiled to myself. I had to. Kings must be strong in the face of their toughest adversaries, after all.


End file.
